


I cannot outlast a hurricane; I can temper a blizzard

by writerdragonfly



Series: matchsticks and campfires [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Iris POV, M/M, Surprise Pairing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris falls in love on a Sunday. Things change on a Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I cannot outlast a hurricane; I can temper a blizzard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts), [MissSugarPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/gifts).



> It's like 3:30 in the morning, I have no idea. 
> 
> Also, the surprise pairing suprised the hell out of me too so feedback for that would be fanTASTic.

She fell in love on a cold Sunday afternoon, the rain dripping down the thick canvas overhang into muddy puddles. 

 

 

 

She fell in love on a Sunday, and she knew from the moment that it happened that it wouldn't be returned. 

 

It wasn't that she didn't have the kind of qualities required for someone to fall in love with her. She did, she knew that much. It was more that she wasn't _un_ aware of the fact that he already loved someone else. 

 

She could see it. She could see it in every little glint in his eyes, every twisted up little corner of his smile, every soft little sigh. 

 

She knew that he loved her, that perhaps he always had. But that time and her (mostly) inadvertent refusals to accept the degree of it had worn him down. That with time and space and the comfort of someone else's arms, he'd been able to move on. 

 

And with time and loss and rumination, she'd finally fallen. 

 

In another life she knew that things would be different. That in a million other universes they were probably together or well on their way there.

 

But in this one, she had waited too long and he had found someone he didn't have to wait for. 

 

All the arguments she could make didn't matter, their efficacy and truth were irrelevant. 

 

He was happy, and that's all that mattered. 

 

She wouldn't wait for him to be unhappy. That wouldn't be fair of he--to assume that he would be unhappy. He loved so much and so deeply, and he had such an intense depth of--she didn't even know the word, just that he _felt_ so much and cared so _hard_. 

 

And really, she wasn't as strong as he was--not in that way. He endured hurricanes for her--emotionally wrought and tumultuous relationships that ruined half of what they touched--and she didn't think she could have done as much without breaking, without screaming at him that he was going to get his heartbroken. 

 

But she was stronger in other ways. 

 

"... and if there's one thing you have to do, it's this: you have to realize that when he falls, he falls hard, that once he loves you he's never going to stop. He can't, it's just who he is."

 

"Okay...?"

 

"And, Snart? If you ever think of taking advantage of that, you will regret it. I can promise you that."

 

She would endure a blizzard for Barry.

 

She knows once she leaves him, that he's going to dial the ten digits that make up Barry's phone number. That Barry's going to race over and realize that she knows. 

 

But she also knows that it's not one sided. That Leonard Snart sat at his little kitchen table and listened to her talk about what loving Barry meant, that his lips quirked up when she talked about the things that made him who he was. That he never made a move to stop her, never denied her claims. 

 

That he didn't get defensive when she threatened him.

 

She leaves him there, sitting at his table with that same soft smile on his face that she doesn't even think he realizes that he has and walks out into the quiet of the city at night. 

 

"Hard, isn't it?" A voice asks, a low rough sounding thing. She startles, just a little, but finds herself oddly charmed by the big man leaning against the brick of the outside of the apartment building like he's a bodyguard. 

 

"What's hard?" She asks, even though she already knows the answer. 

 

"Realizing you're in love with someone who's happy with someone else, even if they don't admit to it," he says, stubbing out the red tip of his cigarette on the dark brick beside him. 

 

"... You too?" She asks him and she already knows the answer.

 

She goes home with him that night, and falls a little out of love with Barry Allen. 

 

And maybe it's not love at first sight and maybe she'll never love him at all, maybe it's just lust and loneliness and understanding.

 

But she likes the gruff rasp of his voice and the warmth of his wide hands, likes the way he makes her burn from the inside. She likes the way he smells like campfire--the good kind of campfire, like summer camp and fire pits and laughter carrying through the trees and falling asleep with the heavy happy exhaustion that comes from spending days having fun--and the way his stubble scrapes against her skin. 

 

Maybe she'll never completely get over Barry, but she thinks this is the way to start. 

 

When she wakes up in the morning she doesn't regret it. Her phone chimes a text that just says thank you, and she shuts the screen off with the click of a button and turns back to her companion, nuzzles her way back into the fever warmth of his arms and presses a kiss to his neck. 

 

She fell in love on a Sunday afternoon with the heavy rain splashing into puddles on the streets, and she started to fall out of love on a Tuesday night in the fervent hold of someone who knew how it felt to love someone they couldn't have. 

 

Maybe this is her forever, or maybe he's just her for the moment. Either way, she thinks he's like a heatwave on her skin and she finally feels a little warmer, her heart feels a little stronger. 

 

He pulls her tight against him, and she breathes in the scent of his skin. She doesn't regret a thing. 


End file.
